Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Poking through the undergrowth...

It was just a single, wooden, petrified hand poking up through loose leaves and earth. Usually that wasn’t a problem, except for when said petrified hands were connected to the petrified remains of a Wood Spirits, who actually were corporeal, despite what the title of “spirits” would suggest. And they were mean, most usually. Despite their petrified state. Actually, it was because of it. Who wouldn’t be angry if their bones creaked with millennia-old mineral deposits, and if their cell walls had been replaced with crystalized stone? A healthy dose of fear was necessary, when hands began to creek. 

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